We’re having a reprieve from The Gruffalo’s Child and the Monkey has pottered into the bedroom rather early “EXcuse me Mummy-Daddy” clutching Meg on the Moon in one hand and her Charlie and Lola glasses in the other.
She’s taking up a sizeable bit of bed as she lounges and writhes about “reading” her book. Ever so often she will lurch towards daddy, her face arranged in what I can only describe as her Margaret Thatcher look, and demands he answer her about where the astronauts are. Regrettably, daddy is wrenched from REM with each bossy demand.
“Daddy, do you like spiders or bats?”
We like Saturday mornings the best.